Killer Instincts
by DyingThoughtsofMe
Summary: Things are going great for Matt and Emily. Work is going smoothly, and their relationship is building, whether they realize it or not. But of course, in their world, happiness never lasts long...
1. Chapter 1

_I do not own Standoff, or anything else, so please don't sue._

There was just enough time for a quick shower.

Normally, she didn't bathe at her victim's house, but by judging the blood stains on her arms and all across the middle of her shirt, a quick shower was in dire need.

The bathroom was just down the hall from the living room; in adjacent to the bedroom. She turned the water knobs on the bathtub, stripped, and jumped in. Scalding hot water greeted her, but the temperature was of no matter. At least not right now.

Once finished, she peeked in his closet to find something suitable to wear. Her blood stained clothes wouldn't do; someone might ask questions if they saw her.

And questions were dangerous.

She donned a pair of ripped jeans, no doubt one of American Eagles most expensive, and a tattered work shirt that had the sleeves ripped off. To finish the outfit, she pulled his slick leather jacket on and rolled her hair into one of his many baseball caps. She frowned at the hat; it made her look like a middle aged construction worker. But someone was bound to notice a man with such long hair, and they might ask questions.

She went back into the living room, where his body lay. He was somewhat handsome, in that rocker, grunge way. She never got attached to her work, but a sense of remorse grew in her abdomen, and she frowned slightly.

_I'm never going to get over you…_

She shook her head, clearing it of all thoughts. Now was not a time to feel elegiac.

His keys were on the hook right beside the door, but before she forgot, she carefully withdrew from her purse a note, using a handkerchief all the while of course. She shuddered at the thought of being caught.

She placed the note a few centimeters away from his open right hand, just like she'd been taught, and looked at him for a few seconds. Once satisfied with her work, she grabbed his truck keys off of the key hook right beside the door, shut the door behind her, and locked it.

Mission complete.

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The soft _pit-pat _of the rain on the roof woke Emily up first.

Not to say that was surprising, of course. Out of the majority of the nights they spend together, she was the one who was usually woken first, and Matt was the one with his head under his pillow, trying to catch a few more moments of precious sleep.

Emily didn't mind, though. In fact she rather liked it, in a way that baffled Matt beyond belief. She stretched her arms and legs, grabbed his shirt, and made for the kitchen.

Usually if they were at her house, she would have made breakfast for them both. But seeing as they wound up at his, Emily stuck with the ritual morning coffee. It was a solemn rule that was created sometime ago; if they were at her apartment, she would make breakfast, and he the coffee, and vice versa with his apartment.

She changed the filter and exchanged it with a new one, filled the machine with water, and turned it on. Now that the coffee was brewing, she expected Matt to be up within twenty minutes, if not ten. It really depended on the strength of the brew. Today, she expected fifteen minutes tops.

Emily grabbed one of his magazines, Sports Illustrated but hey, you couldn't have everything, and flipped through the pages checking the clock every now and then. Sure enough, no more than ten minutes later, Matt came stumbling out of the room, clad only in his boxers. Emily flashed him a golden smile from the couch.

"Morning Sleepyhead," she greeted cheerfully.

"So that's where my shirt went," Matt mumbled. He placed a swift kiss on her check. "Morning. Coffee smells good." He noted.

"Oh, yeah it's that brand that I bought for you at Starbucks, the French Roast brand. Don't know why you've never used it before…" she trailed off, a note of curiosity in her voice.

"Oh, um, yeah, been saving it for when you would be over here," Matt quickly lied as she poured a cup. He shuddered as she took a sip. Coffee, he believed, should be served in two ways: black or with half and half. No other way.

This is why he poured his cup down the sink when she wasn't looking.

"You want some more?" she asked, offering the pot, taking note of his sudden empty cup.

"Ah, no thanks. Trying to cut down on my caffeine." He answered. He changed the subject. "Hey, don't we have work at eight?" he asked, checking the clock on the microwave.

"It's Sunday," she answered coolly, eyes never leaving the article she was reading.

"Oh, well, in that case, we can do whatever the hell we want," he said, plopping down next to her. He placed his head on her shoulder. "Jets lost last week," he stated.

"More like last year," she said in a bantering tone.

"Hmmn," he said, suddenly kissing her neck.

"Matt," Emily said, dropping the magazine on her lap.

"Hmmn," he replied in a questioning tone.

"Every time we start something like this, it usually ends up in a phone call from Cheryl or something worse," she mumbled as his lips grazed her earlobe.

"Mhmmn," was the answer, and no more was said as his lips captured hers. Matt ran his hands under her, or rather his, shirt and Emily arched her back into him, moaning. Matt grinned into their kiss, deciding to take it one step further… when his cell phone went off.

Emily broke their kiss and fell back into the pillows on the couch as Matt reached for his cell. She flashed him an 'I-told-you-she-would-call-but-no-you-didn't-believe-me' look.

"Flannery," he said in a dull voice. Sighing, Emily grabbed her coffee cup and poured the now cold contents into the sink. _Such perfect timing, _her thoughts echoed sarcastically.

"What?" Matt asked in disbelief. Emily turned to him and saw a dumbfounded expression etched on his face.

"_I said get down here A.S.A.P. I don't care about traffic; just get your asses down here, now."_

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It's going to get better, I promise. This was just a small chapter to get the story going.

Also, this story IS going to get darker, probably border lining 'M'. So I hope that won't freak any of you guys out.


	2. Chapter 2

If I really owned Standoff, why would I be on FF?

Thanks to all who reviewed!

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Out of the many years Cheryl Carreara had worked at CNU, she had gotten used to the threat letters that were placed on her desk every morning.

Whether it is a crazed man saying he would bomb the White House, or even some letters that included the possible risk of her own life, Cheryl simply waved them aside, without a care in the world. Most of the letters were false anyway; after further examination, the majorities were filed for further use, and after a few weeks they were incinerated.

But this letter had grabbed her attention upon reading the first sentence. What had bewildered her was the fact that the letter had sentences, only names.

And one stood out among them all.

_**Carson, David **_

_**Anthems, Chris**_

_**Meurtre, Francois**_

_**Mentira, Carlos**_

_**Flannery, Matthew**_

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"There had better be a damn good excuse for this," Matt muttered under his breath.

He held open the door to Cheryl's office for Emily, and then followed her in. Their boss was sitting at her office, focused on a piece of crumpled paper in her hands. She looked at them, averted her eyes to the paper once again, and then set it down on her desk.

"We have a problem," she said. Emily noticed her worried tone. Right away, she knew that wasn't good.

Cheryl Carreara wasn't known to worry much.

"I swear, Cheryl, we haven't done anything. Not in the field, especially not in here, and definitely not-"

"This isn't about the two of you, Matt," Cheryl cut him.

Matt silenced immediately. Never had his boss spoken so gravely.

"As a matter of fact, this is more about you than any of us. Please," she held up her hand to keep him from interrupting, "Let me get this over with. Have you heard of that apartment murder that took place two weeks ago?" she asked.

"Who hasn't? Some guy found dead in his apartment, beaten to a pulp," Emily explained. "But what does that have to do with Matt?"

In response, Cheryl placed the crumpled piece of paper in front of them. Matt picked it up and Emily leaned over the arm of her chair to read it. While they were doing this, Cheryl opened a folder and placed them side by side at the front of her desk.

"The guy found dead in his apartment was David Carson, age thirty two. Lawyer. Took forensics two days to find an identity, seeing as his apartment was wiped clean of I.Ds, credit cards, even photos." Cheryl said in a robot like voice.

"God, look at these. He looks like a human piñata, except there are internal organs instead of candy." Emily breathed. Black and blue bruises adorned the man's body, making him look like a human Dalmatian. His stomach was cut wide open, giving all a perfect view of the contents inside. Lastly, but certainly not least, a single gash lay across his throat, at least an inch deep. It was obvious what the cause of death was. Matt could hardly bear to read the note, much less look at the blood bath caught on film.

"I found this on my desk just this morning. Luckily I had to come in to file some paper work, other wise we wouldn't have seen this until Monday." Cheryl said. Matt cursed his boss' obsession with paperwork. "I called in to get more information. What I found were these photos, and a report of another murder. I.D. is unknown, but forensics is working on that. I believe that there is a very likely chance he is this Anthems guy."

"And if he is?" Matt asked hoarsely.

"Then I'm putting you, Meurtre, and Mentira under constant surveillance. There's a possibility someone wants you dead, Matt, and by judging these photos, he is one mean son of a bitch."

Matt threw the note onto his boss' desk and started pacing around the room, running his hands through his hair. He was restless; someone wanted him dead? Yeah, sure he had done his fair share of bad things in the past, but nothing to get him killed, that's for damn sure.

"And they have no idea who did it?" he asked.

"No, but I have to ask. Do you recognize any of these men?" asked Cheryl tentatively, pointing to the note.

"No! I have no idea who the hell these guys are!" Matt answered disdainfully.

"Okay, Okay. Secondly, there's no one I know of that would want you dead, is there?"

"No," Matt answered more calmly, but still firm. Just then, Cheryl's cell buzzed. She answered it immediately.

"Yes?" Silence for a few moments. "Oh, God." She whispered. Matt's stomach churned.

"And the I.D.?" Cheryl's eyes widened with horror. She gave a quiet thank you and hung up.

"Identity is confirmed; it's Anthems. So from now on, I want you to stay indoors, at least until we've figured something out. I don't care where, but I do want someone with you, and not just Lehman." Cheryl said as she dialed in a number on her cell. "I'm calling Frank."

"What?" both Matt and Emily asked.

"We need to get these other men warned and protected. This guy is a living monster, and I'm taking no chances." She explained. "Hello? Frank? I need you to get up here as soon as possible." She stopped and listened for a minute. "Yes, I know its Sunday; you think I don't realize that? This is a big situation, Frank, just get up here." She finished and hung up.

"So what? Does Matt just stay hidden until we catch this guy?" Emily asked unbelievingly.

"For now, that's the best we can do," replied Cheryl forebodingly.

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"You want me to WHAT?!" Frank shouted.

"At least until we've got this guy in custody. Then you can go back to hating each other." Cheryl said firmly.

"Why can't Lehman stay with him, like she does every other night?" demanded Frank. Emily glared at Frank behind his back.

"Because Lehman's not a weapons expert, and I'm taking no chances," Cheryl argued.

"What about Duff?" frank compromised.

"He's keeping guard over Mentira, and I'm sending two others to keep watch over Meurtre. I do not want this man to have another successful killing, and he's going right down the list." Cheryl showed the three of them out of her office. "Oh, and Frank? You might want to take a sleeping bag." With that, she grinned and shooed them home.

Matt was silent on the ride back to his place, and that worried Emily. She thought of saying something, to reassure him, but she decided against it. Emily didn't want to set him off.

"You okay? You seem quiet," Matt was the first to speak up, which took Emily by surprise.

"I think the real question is are you okay?" she answered.

"Of course I'm fine. I've just got a killer on my ass that's all," Matt said sarcastically.

"That's not my fault. And don't make this any worse than it already is," Emily snapped.

"How could it get _any worse?!" _Matt shouted. In fury he crossed two lanes and skidded over to the side of the road, many cars cursing him and flipping him off in the process. He turned the engine off and stared out the window, watching the water drops run down in little rivers, breathing slightly heavy. His grip on the steering wheel never let up, making his knuckles turn white.

Emily paused, and then spoke softly, "This isn't your fault, and I'm not saying it is. I can't say I know how you feel, but I can tell you that we will get through this, one step at a time. But until we catch this bastard, you need to stay low. Take it easy for a while."

She reached over and grabbed his right hand, sandwiching it between both of hers, and he finally relaxed.

Matt sighed. "But what if we don't catch him? What if he kills those other guys and them me-"

"That won't happen," Emily said firmly. "And stop being so negative, it brings down your self esteem." She leaned over and gave him a soft kiss. "Okay?"

"Okay." He replied. He smiled for what seemed like the first time in ages and revved up the engine. The rest of the way home, his right hand never let go of her left one.

"Here are the rules," Frank said thirty minutes later. "No messing with my stuff, and I won't mess with yours, no bugging me, and no sex."

They were at Matt's house, and Frank was just getting situated. The sofa was pulled out into a hid-a-bed, and a small duffel bag was placed one it, containing a few changes of clothes, and several different weapons.

"I'm not that wild about you, either," Matt muttered, disgusted.

"You know what I mean. Its bad enough I have to stay here, I don't want to even think about putting up with your, _frolicking." _Frank spat out.

"I'm going to leave now, and let the two of you get more…acquainted." Emily said as she handed Matt spare blankets. "Be nice," she warned.

"I am nice," both men said simultaneously, then scowled at each other. Emily chuckled, and gave Matt a swift kiss, making Frank look away pointedly, and left.

Lightening flashed outside the window, and thunder soon followed. Neither one of them said a word. Finally Matt grabbed the remote and turned the television on. The theme for the twelve o'clock news filled the vacant silence.

"You have anything to eat?" Frank asked, making his way towards the compact kitchen.

"Yeah, there should be something in the fridge, knock yourself out," Matt answered dully, ignoring his own hunger. The Anchorwoman's voice filled his ears.

"_-So no doubt you want to stay indoors today, folks. In other news, there was a brutal murder in the Greater Los Angeles area last night. Thirty two year old Chris Anthems was found dead in his apartment around nine forty. Here's Zach Letterman with more information."_

"_Thanks Cathy. This afternoon, many are mourning the loss of Christopher Anthems, who was-"_

"Hey, you don't need to be watching that," Frank said as he came in and sat one the bed next to Matt, a beer and ham sandwich in hand. "You hungry or want a beer?"

"No, I'm fine." Matt didn't even notice how kind Frank was being. His eyes were glued to the screen, which showed forensics moving the sheet covered body into an ambulance.

_That could be me…_

His thoughts were interrupted as the power suddenly went out.

"Aw, damn it!" Frank hissed next to him. Matt felt him get up and heard him rummage through the kitchen drawers. "Hey, you got a flashlight?" Frank asked.

"Next to the stove," Matt said through numb lips.

His eyes were still on the screen.

The image of the body was still fresh in his mind.

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Duff was looking forward to his plans with Lia tonight, and when Cheryl called him and told him he had to baby sit a thirty five year old man, he was pissed to say the least.

Carlos Mentira lived alone, and had been complaining ever since Duff got there, which was really starting to get on his nerves. For the past thirty minutes, Duff and Cheryl had been trying to explain to Carlos that there was a serial killer after him, and only when Cheryl said that Duff had to watch over him did he really grasp it. He reluctantly lent Duff a room to stay, at least for the night.

Duff was starting to fidget and he decided to search the perimeter for anything unusual, mainly because he had to get out of the house. So Duff told Carlos, who was in the kitchen preparing supper, where he was going, and stepped out into the falling rain, shutting the door firmly behind him.

He was used to rain; the cool droplets didn't bother him one bit. Carlos had a nice garden; green grass, blossoming flowers, no weeds. Yes he certainly kept it well groomed. He circled the garden gnomes a few times, and then headed back to the front door. The rain was getting harder.

He knew something was wrong the minute he saw the door ajar.

Instinct told him not to panic, but he quietly pushed the door aside and pulled his gun. The lights were off, which was never good. He made his was towards the kitchen.

What he saw made his blood run cold.

Carlos was dead, that was quite obvious. His heart was lying next to him in a puddle of blood, which revolted Duff more than anything. He was covered in bruises, which meant he didn't die without a fight. But how did Duff not hear the struggle.

His question was answered in a clap of thunder.

He felt so stupid. In his selfishness, he left an innocent man unprotected, and it cost him his life. What was it Frank always said? _Never leave your hostage unprotected._ That was it. Never had he felt more disgusted with himself.

Duff groped for his cell phone and absentmindedly called 911. Three rings followed before someone finally picked up.

"_911. What is the emergency?" _

Before Duff could answer, a shot was heard, and the phone was ripped out of his hand. He cried out in surprise, and his cry turned into a scream as white hot pain ripped through it. Blood seeped out of bullet wound right next to his thumb.

Before he could react, another shot was heard and Duff was suddenly on his knees. He felt warm liquid run down his leg. Someone was talking to him, but he heard nothing.

He felt a crack on the side of his head, and Duff knew no more.

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I won't be able to update until next weekend at the very least, school starts up again next week.


	3. Chapter 3

I do not own standoff.

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"What's the damage?"

"No clue; he's still in surgery."

"Is Frank coming?" Emily whispered to her boss.

"Him and Matt. They're on their way," Cheryl replied.

Nothing more was said, and silence echoed throughout the waiting room. The monotonous tick-tock of the clock on the wall opposite of them was the only thing disturbing the silence. There would have been more action, as waiting rooms normally were. However, this was not the case as it was drawing close to midnight. Occasionally, one or two people would enter the hospital, only to walk right out after a brief visit with the night receptionist. Her rules were clear: No visitors after nine.

But that didn't pose as a threat to the head of CNU.

Thirty more minutes passed before Frank came bursting in, Matt not too far behind. Both men were soaked to the bone and water was dripping from their clothes; obviously the rain still hadn't let up. It was Frank that spoke first.

"Where is he? Who shot him? When I get my hands on the son of a bitch that-"

"Easy, big guy. The doctors are still working on him, he should be out soon," Emily said, trying to calm him. It didn't help. The receptionist glared at both men before promptly asking, "May I help you?"

"They're with us," Cheryl said coolly, taking Frank by the arm and forcing him in the seat next to her. Emily did the same with Matt on the opposite side of them.

"God, you're soaking. Didn't the two of you park closer?" Emily asked as Matt rung out his jacket, trying and failing to avoid the water drops.

"Wanted to, but G.I. Joe here wanted the first available spot, and luckily for us, it was about twenty feet from the entrance," Matt said darkly.

"Sorry for feeling concerned for a friend," Frank snapped.

"Stop it!" shrieked Lia, speaking for the first time. When nobody spoke she said quietly, "You two are always fighting, can't you cut it out for once?" She asked looking between both men.

"Sorry," muttered Matt.

"Yeah," agreed Frank mutually.

Seconds turned into minutes which ticked away into hours. Finally, just as Emily was dozing off on Matt's shoulder, a doctor came out. He explained Duff's injuries, the bullets in his thigh and hand and his slight concussion. Since it was closing in on one o'clock, visiting him was out of order. Besides, he wouldn't be awake until later in the morning, according to the doctor.

"He should be able to leave after a week or so, just enough time to recuperate. Then I want him to take some time off at work for his injuries to heal," the doctor explained.

"Thank you, Dr. Cox. For being so patient," Cheryl expressed her gratitude. The others nodded behind her, in thanks.

"You shouldn't thank me. Thank Mona. Visitors who are wise clear out of here after eight thirty. You don't want to face her wrath," he said seriously.

Matt snorted. Cheryl could probably have that old cow down for the count.

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News traveled like wild fire around the office about Duff and the Mentira murder. How it got around so fast, Matt would never know, but by nine o'clock, it was the news of the day. Everyone was asking the same questions:

Who shot Duff?

More importantly, who killed Carlos Mentira?

And Matt was dying for the answers.

So when Cheryl dragged him in her office the moment, he was half expecting for her to know the answers. But of course, Cheryl was not a miracle worker.

"Flannery- where's Lehman?" she asked abruptly, noticing his partners' absence.

"She stayed at home, wasn't feeling well." It was true. Emily called and asked him to call in sick for her, due to the fact that she couldn't stay on her feet for more than five minutes.

"Okay," Cheryl said slowly, debating on whether he was telling the truth; Matt was a notorious liar. "Anyway, since we're on that subject, I don't want you to go over there anymore-"

"What?!" Matt cut her off.

"At least not without Frank driving there with you. He can wait in the car for all I care. This is getting serious, Matt. Only two of you on that list are left alive, and I am not taking any chances. In fact, it would be better if you stopped going over there altogether. I want you here at seven thirty in the morning- yes, Matt seven thirty A.M. - and you won't leave until after Frank's last training class." Cheryl told him firmly.

Matt stood there and stared at her, taking all of this in. God, Frank torturing him about his relationship with Emily was more than he could bear; now he couldn't go over to her place without him tagging along for the ride?

"Listen," she leaned forward and spoke softly, "This is coming from not only your boss, but your friend. I don't want to lose you, both as an agent and as my former partner. I can barely handle Duff in the hospital, let alone your funeral. So go on," boss mode again, "As I recall, you still haven't finished your share of paperwork on that Moreno case."

She smiled at Matt's groan.

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Her headache ceased for a moment, so Emily was allowed for one trip to the bathroom. She chose it for two reasons: One, it was closer. Two, it had a toilet, and a toilet was what she needed more than anything right now.

So, without further hesitation, she carefully got out of bed, nearly losing her footing for a second, and used the wall to support her way to the bathroom. Once there, she looked herself in the mirror and took in the image. Her hair was shaggy like a mop, her face was pale as paper, and she couldn't open her eyes beyond a squint. In other words, she looked like hell.

"Ugh," she winced as pain flashed through her head. Why was this happening? Just last night she felt good as new. Now however…

Her thoughts were interrupted as she felt something rise up her throat. Quickly she turned to the toilet and filled it with the contents of her stomach.

After ten minutes, Emily forced herself to her feet and wiped her mouth with a towel. Now she was throwing up, what was that all about? Emily rinsed her mouth with mouthwash when something struck her. As fast as her lethargic legs would allow, she hurried to her nightstand and pulled from the drawer a pink pill box. She was hoping that there were only five pills inside. But she was proved wrong when she counted six.

Emily wanted to slap herself. She remembered three weeks ago; when she and Matt took that weekend off to drive to the beach. The weather was lovely, and she and Matt had the whole weekend to themselves. Nothing but the sun and sand. And, of course, their small room right next to the beach…

She grabbed the phone and dialed Lia's cell number. Finally, after a few rings, Lia picked up.

"_Hello?" _

"Hey, Lia? Could you do me a favor...?"

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Matt threw the file to the side. Finished at last.

He stretched his arms and stood to get some coffee from the break room. Last night had really done a number on him. Instead of the usual six to seven hours he got, he got about three hours of sleep last night. It wasn't because they didn't get home really late; he and Frank got in at about one thirty.

No, his mind kept him awake last night. Thoughts of Duff in surgery and of yet another murder haunted his dreams. Every time he dozed off, a gunshot went off in his head, and he woke up.

Matt was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't even notice Lia right in front of him. The two collided instantly, and Lia's papers went flying everywhere.

"Oh, jeez, Lia. I'm so sorry," Matt bumbled as he picked up stray papers. "Cheryl's right, I really can be blind sometimes…"

"Don't worry about it," Lia said. She grabbed the papers out of his hand, shoved them into a cream colored file, and nearly sprinted to the elevator, leaving Matt where he was.

Matt felt bad. Obviously she was completely upset about Duff, the two were getting close. He ran after her, feeling the need to apologize, and caught her just before the elevator doors shut.

"Hey, Lia. Are you okay? You've been acting really depressed since last night, and I'm really sorry for me and Frank fighting like that. I mean, clearly there were more important things to worry about-"

"Matt, I'm fine. Really," Lia cut him off. "Thanks for being understanding. But right now Em- I mean my sister just called and I have to go. This is a real emergency. Thanks again!" she pushed the button to make the doors close and frantically smiled at him.

Matt stared at the shiny silver doors.

Since when did Lia have a sister?

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"Okay, so do you want to pee in a cup or on a stick?"

"Lia!" Emily hissed. She glanced around her, making sure no one was watching. "I really don't want to announce this to the public."

"Hey, you only have a fifty percent chance of being pregnant," Lia said.

"We didn't use protection," Emily argued, blushing.

"Well, then a ninety nine point nine percent. But hey, these things have been known to be faulty," Lia said hopefully.

"Then we'll buy five," Emily said, grabbing four more of the cup tests. She quickly paid for them, then grabbed Lia and pulled her to the bathroom, nearly knocking some poor old lady over in the process.

Lia waited outside while Emily did her business, then Emily pulled her into the bathroom. While waiting for the tests to finish, Emily paced around the bathroom, glancing at the cups on the sink every now and then. After five minutes were up, they checked the results.

"You read them, please," Emily said, wringing her hands. Lia complied and grabbed the first cup.

"Okay, this one says you're not pregnant," she said. Relief flooded throughout Emily, but there were still four more tests.

Lia checked the others. Her expression became more worrisome with each test. "The rest of these say you're…pregnant," she said quietly. Emily buried her head in her hands and leaned against the wall.

Lia put an arm around her. "Hey there could be a mistake-"

"Four out of five, Lia." She looked at her friend. "What am I going to do?" she asked.

Lia didn't answer.

The women disposed of the pregnancy tests and left in silence.

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She recognized that woman, the skinny one with reddish-brown hair.

She watched both women leave with solemn looks on their faces. Clearly they were upset about something. But she couldn't remember who she was. She just couldn't put her tongue on it… Her memory betrayed her as the ladies drove away.

She hated it when these things happened. Back in the old days, she could recognize anyone anywhere, all it took was a face and a connection. But alas, time and age had caught up with her, and she now had to rely on others to help her with her slight memory problem.

They had been looking at the pregnancy tests; and by judging the looks on their faces, one of them was expecting. She had been around enough girls in her lifetime to recognize these things. The father's reaction was always humorous to imagine.

Then it struck her like lightening. She had seen that specific woman with Matthew Flannery.

The last on the List.

She loved it when she could kill two birds with one stone…

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First of all, I am so sorry for getting this up so late. Thanks to all who R&R last chapter.

School, unfortunately, has to come first. And lucky me got a lot of homework this week. For all the authors out there who are still in school, which is the majority of you, you understand where I'm coming from.

I will update sooner, I promise. There's going to be A LOT next chapter, to make up for the lacking of action in this chapter. So, bear with me, that's all I ask.

Oh, and that reminds me.

JUNE?!?! WHAT THE FREAK?!?!

I really hate Fox right now. In my opinion, I think Standoff, if not already, will be cancelled. Now, I'm sad…


	4. Chapter 4

I do not own standoff.

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It was nearly nine o'clock by the time Emily and Lia got back to Emily's apartment. Both women had not said a word since the results of the tests; Emily was in denial and Lia was afraid Emily would explode. Once back at the apartment, Lia shut off the engine, leaving both of them in silence.

"You gonna be okay?" Lia asked hesitantly.

Emily just nodded; Words had left her, leaving her silent. Lia took her hand and grasped it firmly, before leaning over the console and giving her a hug.

"It's going to be okay, and if it's not, we're going to make it okay," Lia's muffled voice came from her shoulder. "Everything's going to turn out fine, just wait."

Emily just nodded her head once more and got out of the car. Before shutting the door, she turned to Lia. "Thanks," Emily murmured.

"Anytime. If you need me, call. I'll be over here in a New York minute," Lia said. Emily smiled half heartedly, and closed the car door. She made her way to the elevator, hitting the up arrow. The elevator came, and Emily stepped inside, leaning against the wall for support.

The elevator dinged, and she stepped out. As she headed towards her door, she saw that Lia was still there. Apparently, she wanted to make sure Emily got into her apartment without any trouble. Emily smiled weakly at her friend's thoughtfulness as she fetched for her keys in her purse. Only when Emily was inside did Lia pull away. Emily sighed, bolted the door behind her, and threw her shoes and purse aside.

She slid down the door and wrapped her arms around her knees. Too much had happened this week; Three failed hostage situations, Cheryl restricting Matt from allowing him to see her, a serial killer trying to do Matt in, she found out she was…

No, she thought. No there must be a mistake. No way in hell I would allow this to happen. Emily Lehman is not that stupid, she would never, in a million years allow herself to get…_knocked up, _as her father would put it.

Only married women got pregnant, or at least women whose partners would stay by their side. That was one thing that scared half to death; if Matt found out she was pregnant, he would more than likely leave her, wouldn't he? He hated change, he said so himself. Apart from marriage, wasn't a baby the biggest thing in any relationship?

Tears escaped her eyes, despite her resistance, and streamed down her face. God, how could she let this happen?

"Emily, what happened?" a concerned voice filled her ears. She felt arms reach out and pull her up. Only when a hand wiped away the tears did she realize it was Matt.

"M.M Matt," she stuttered, tears forgotten. "What are you doing here? It's nearly nine thirty. You shouldn't be out this late. Where's Frank?"

"To answer your question, he's out cold on my couch; he may be my body guard, but he is not my babysitter. Plus, I've been calling you for the past two hours. I get kinda worried after getting the answer machine for the fifth time," he explained.

"But you know what Cheryl said; no going out after dark, especially-"

"Cheryl is not my mother. I'm a big boy Em, I can take care of myself," Matt cut her off. "Now why are you crying?" Emily said nothing. Matt rolled his eyes. "I'm not leaving without an answer," he said firmly, and Emily knew his words were true.

"Oh, umm. Just upset about all this," she said, avoiding his eyes.

"About what?" Damn him. Why did he have to be so nosy?

"Oh Work, and my classes, and the fact that your life is in danger." Emily prayed he would believe her. Of course he didn't believe her.

Matt chuckled. "You know, you can lie to stop someone from killing themselves, but you can't lie to save your own ass." He led her to the couch and sat her down, setting himself across from her. "First of all, work is always going to be a pain in the butt; nothing can change that. Second, I've known you long enough to know that you love to teach, and your classes are pretty much the thing that gets you up in the morning. Third, don't worry about me. How many times do I have to say that? Now we are not leaving her until you tell me what's wrong." He said, leaning back into her couch. "We have all night," he said simply.

It was too much. Emily felt something break inside of her. Next thing she knew, she was shouting.

"What's wrong? WHAT'S WRONG?! You want to know what's pissing me off? How about the fact that everyone is worried about you, and I mean EVERYONE, and here you are. Walking around town, practically a target for this crazy bastard who would do anything to carve you up like a pumpkin. _AND YOU DON'T CARE!!_" she screamed at him. Matt simply blinked.

Emily stood up and started pacing. "God, how can you be so stupid Matt? Can't you see that Cheryl, Frank, Me, hell even Duff, are scared out of our minds because we don't want you to die? How do you think we would feel? Cry for a few days then magically get over it? _I don't think so._ Life isn't a fairy tale, Matt. Happily ever after doesn't exist. At least not in my life. And I am not raising this baby all by myself. So you," she strode over to Matt, who had also stood up. "Had better," she jabbed him in the chest, "learn," another jab, "to take _fucking," _jab, "care of yourself!"

When Emily was done, she simply crossed her arms and stood in front of him, tears flowing proudly down her face. Matt looked at her, just taking in the sight in front of him. He reached out and cupped her cheek, then pulled roughly into a hug. Emily sobbed even more, burying her face in her shoulder. Matt ran his fingers through her hair and rubbed her back.

"Don't die," Emily cried. "Just don't die."

"I won't," Matt said soothingly. "I won't."

The two stood there for a good ten minutes before Emily's crying ceased. "Sorry for overreacting," she apologized. "It was stupid…" her voice trailed off.

"No it wasn't," Matt said firmly. He sighed heavily. "How long have you known about, you know…?"

"Just found out tonight," Emily grinned sheepishly, wrapping her arms around her stomach. "I didn't want to tell you this way, but… you're going to be a daddy," she chuckled.

Matt let the words wash over him. Part of him stopped functioning, completely shocked. Yet the other part of him wanted to strangle him. He got Emily pregnant, how could he do that to her?

"Matt?" Emily asked hesitantly.

"What? Oh, yeah. Daddy. I'm going to be…be…a…a…daddy," he finished. Emily nodded.

Matt laughed, running his fingers through his hair. "It's been one hell of a week, you know that? First on a hit list, next a baby." He shook his head.

"You're okay with this, aren't you?" Emily asked. "I mean, this is just as overwhelming for me as it is for you and-"

She was cut of by a gagging noise, and then dashed from the room, a hand clasped over her mouth. Matt quickly followed, and found her head first into the toilet, emptying it off all its contents. Matt grimaced and pulled her hair back. Once she was done, she flushed the toilet and gargled with some mouthwash. "If I ever find the bastard who came up with the name 'morning sickness' I'll kill him," she joked tiredly.

"You need rest," ordered Matt. He picked her up and carried her to her bedroom, placing her on her bed. He removed her socks, pants, shirt before pulling the covers around her. He left momentarily and came back with a bucket and placed it on her side of the bed. He then removed his own jeans and shirt and got into bed with her, wrapping his arm around her waist and kissing her hair.

"You don't have to stay…" Emily's voice wandered off, but Matt just flicked the lamp off, leaving them in darkness.

"Try and get some sleep Emily," he whispered. Emily sighed. "Love you," she murmured in her sleep.

Matt pulled her closer. "Me too, babe."

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Okay, not as long as I expected. But hey, I'm trying to survive on ten hours of sleep for this entire week. I'm about ready to keel over.

Fluff and angst, to make up for the lack of the two in previous chapters! Well, more of fluff, but fluff is always better with angst, in my opinion. It kinda makes a story bitter sweet. Not too sugary, but not too sour. Plus, we need some M/E fluff real bad.

Many thanks to those who reviewed. Oh, and Bite Beccy, thanks for the encouragement.

Now I'm going to go to bed and practically die…


	5. Chapter 5

I do not own standoff

A/N: Hopefully this chapter will give you some background info on our antagonists, seeing as I've pretty much ignored them all throughout the first four chapters.

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One thing was for sure; Emma Swanson would go to hell and back for her daughters.

Emma loved Elsa, Daniela, and Liesl with all her heart. Liesl was the eldest by three years, Daniela came in second at five, and Elsa was just coming out of infancy. They were a hassle sometimes, but she loved them none the less.

Things went fine for the first part of her marriage; her ex husband Jimmy was an accountant, and the first time she met him, she was his secretary. A year and a half and many hookups in the office later, they got married.

Liesl was born exactly nine months later, along with many restrictions. Money got tighter, especially after Emma was fired from her job. Jimmy said things would be fine; he could support the three of them.

Things changed when Daniela was born, Jimmy became somewhat recluse and withdrawn to the family. Emma didn't suspect the late nights or the early morning meetings, not until Elsa was born. Three months after her youngest was born, she found his cell pone in his pants while doing his laundry, which just happened to ring right then and there. She answered, and was surprised to find Cindy, Jimmy's current secretary, talking to her about meeting her sweet "Baby doll" at the local Holiday Inn.

She filed for a divorce immediately, thinking life would be better with just her daughters. However, at the divorce hearing, Jimmy was granted custody of at least one child. And since Daniela downright refused to be separated with her Emma, and Elsa was just an infant at the time, the father took the eldest of the three.

Things rolled by smoothly for a few months, but Emma missed her daughter dearly. She decided that she was going to get Liesl back one way or another.

At first, she went to Court. She filed complaints against her ex-husband, saying that he beat her poor baby, and she wouldn't tolerate this any longer. When the Judge asked for proof, Emma drug poor Liesl to the stand and showed him the collection of bruised that adorned her arms. Little did the Judge know that it was actually Emma that caused such injuries, and begged Liesl not to tell anyone.

Of course Liesl complied. After all, how could she disobey someone who loved and cared for her? Someone she loved and cared for in return?

But the evidence wasn't enough. According to the Judge, the abrasions could have been caused by anything; for example, any child could injure themselves in such ways at recess at school. The Judge ignored the complaints, stating that Liesl was a rather rambunctious girl and there was nothing to worry about.

Next was money. Emma tried bribing her ex with numerous amounts of cash, hoping to ignite his greediness from his former gambling days. But alas, it worked to no avail.

Emma was running out of options to get her Liesl back. Then one morning as she read the newspapers, she found her answer in the obituaries.

The sad murder of Penelope Carlisle gave her the inspiration. As she read about how the young woman's prosperous life was drawn to an end with a bullet, Emma had an epiphany. How could Liesl live with her father if she had no father in the first place?

It was a crazy idea then, but the more accustomed she grew to the thought, the more she liked it. Soon, Emma was planning the death of her babies' daddy.

She studied previous murder cases, all of which the killer was caught of course, and she learned from the mistakes the killers made. Emma learned that a single finger print or body fluid could mean a one way ticket to prison. She went to the public library and researched as much as she could on forensic science. If there was one thing that could cause her to fail, Emma would sniff it out.

Finally, after three months of preparation, she set her plan in place and killed him.

A knife to the throat was a swift, easy kill. And the bleach rubbed on every surfaced she touched, even though her hands wore gloves, got rid of any trace of prints. She watched in masked pride when the anchorwoman announced that forensics couldn't find any trace of DNA whatsoever. The only fluids containing DNA was that of the victim himself.

Finally the Judge allowed Emma custody of her oldest daughter.

The girls were still mourning over the death of their father, but Emma had faith that things would be alright soon enough.

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"Mommy, what's for dinner?" Liesl asked.

"Spaghetti," Emma replied.

"Again? But we had that last night, and the night before!" Liesl whined.

"You'll eat it or go to bed hungry. Now you and Danni go put up the dishes," snapped Emma.

Liesl pouted and stomped off to find her sister.

Emma sighed and pre heated the left over noodles and sauce. Being a sales woman for carpets could only do so much.

She put Elsa in her high chair and called the other two to the table. After a quick grace, they dug in.

As Liesl and Danni fought over who had the most noodles, Emma thought about Francois Meurtre. Frankie, as he was more commonly known. The big shot in her office building that liked to hit on women and leave them in the dust once he got what he wanted.

She hated that man, and he would be gone soon.

Just like Flannery.

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Reviews inspire me to write more!


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